Conspiracy
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: I think it's entirely possible that I may be tipsy. [CJ POV.]


Disclaimer: Not my characters.

A/N: For the LJ broomcupboard Secret Santa. Merry Christmas istrapsyche! This is the first time I've written Josh/CJ. I hope I didn't mess up too badly.

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_Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love_. – Hamilton Wright Mabi

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I've been friends with Toby forever, so you'd think that somewhere along the line I would have picked up a vague knowledge of Judaism, right?

Yeah, not so much.

So when I arrived in my office and found a present wrapped in snowflake paper, I thought it was an early Christmas gift. Then I saw 'Happy Hanukkah' on the tag and assumed it was from Toby. I know he's gruff on the outside, but he's really just a big teddy bear at heart. As I said before, we've been friends forever. I know these things.

Feeling a bit like a six-year-old on Christmas morning, I unwrapped the gift. It was a rectangular cardboard box with the word 'Bast' written on the lid.

Cute, Toby, I thought.

Inside the box was a wooden bookend carved in the shape of a cat. While I was still a little sensitive about the whole 'curse of Bast' thing, I had to admit it was beautiful.

When I called to thank Toby, he didn't have a clue what I was talking about.

The next day there was another gift: a scuba diver for Gail's bowl. I knew it wasn't from Danny because, well, he's not Jewish, and also because he's out of the country. Again, Toby professed no knowledge but did offer to buy me something since I seemed so desperate for a gift from him.

It was the same story the next day (a flamingo paperweight – haha) and the next (a T-shirt proclaiming in bold 'I'm too sexy for this shirt' – again, not so much with the funny). It was the fifth day when things changed. By then I was suspicious of everybody, especially Carol, who'd been acting as though she knew something I didn't.

"You know, Carol," I remarked, playing cool, "I'm not Jewish. I don't get Hanukkah at all. Why would someone be sending me Hanukkah gifts?"

Carol just smiled. "Maybe you should open today's."

I narrowed my eyes and gave her The Look, which is usually enough to frighten reporters. A lesser person would have run for the hills. Carol's smile didn't even falter.

"You know something," I said.

"I know many things."

"You know who my Secret Santa is."

Carol shook her head. "I don't think Santa does the whole Hanukkah thing."

She had a point, but I refused to give up. "I'll give you a raise."

"That's not in your power."

"I'll make you coffee every day for a month."

"No offense, CJ, but you don't make great coffee."

"An initial, then." I was getting desperate.

Again with the Cheshire cat smile. I knew when I was beaten.

"Oh, CJ, you are coming to the Christmas party tonight, aren't you?"

I thought of Ginger's hot apple cider and smiled. There is no way I'd miss out on that. Ginger's hot apple cider is – Well, you'd have to taste it to fully understand what I mean. What makes Ginger's hot apple cider different to anyone else's is that she spikes it with Goldshlager. I only know this because I caught her doing it at the party our first year in office.

When I saw the gift on my desk, I forgot all about Ginger's hot apple cider. I sat down and unwrapped it. The box was square-shaped and almost flat. I had a fairly good suspicion what was inside.

Jewelry.

Yep, suspicion confirmed. Specifically, a gold necklace with an angel pendant.

Then it struck me: this was different. This wasn't in the league of the other presents. It was expensive, not exactly the kind of thing you'd get off Best Buy. It was thoughtful. It was romantic.

I was glad it wasn't Toby or Danny, and hoped to God it wasn't Carol. (Muller? Is that a Jewish surname?)

And then a woman set fire to herself in Qumar and I had to concentrate and, you know, do my job. I wore the necklace though, and thinking about it and my secret gift-giver got me through the day.

Toby asked if I had a new boyfriend, Sam said it was pretty (I'm not going to get into how disturbing it was to hear Sam refer to jewelry as 'pretty'), Josh wondered if there weren't more pressing matters than my accessories, and Leo and the President wished me happy Hanukkah.

That's when I knew that all of them knew what was going on. Of course, being that there were actually pressing matters to attend to, I couldn't push the issue.

Which brings me to tonight, and the Christmas party. I'm on my third glass of Ginger's hot apple cider and enjoying every sip, when there's a hand on my shoulder. I turn around.

"Oh, hey, Josh."

"CJ."

I pick up a glass of cider and hold it out. "Here you go. A party isn't a party without punch."

Hmm, there were a lot of P's in that sentence. I think it's entirely possible that I may be tipsy.

Josh shakes his head apologetically. "I can't. Sensitive system."

Ah, yes. The infamous sensitive system. (Look! More alliteration!)

"CJ, are you drunk?"

"Almost," I say cheerfully.

"Oh." His expression darkens and he turns away. I quickly sober up – a handy trick to learn if you're planning a career in politics. I grab his arm.

"What's on your mind?"

"You."

I don't understand. Evidently he sees the look of confusion on my face and bends his head to my ear.

"Happy Hanukkah, CJ."

Oh.

_Oh._

I am an idiot. Not once in the past five days did it occur to me that Josh is Jewish. In my defense, I've always associated him with Christmas and Yo Yo Ma since, you know, the whole PTSD thing.

I remember overhearing a conversation between Josh and Sam once. At least, I think it was Sam. Whatever. Sam (or whoever) said something I didn't catch, to which Josh replied, "I can so bring the woo."

Well, not only can Josh 'bring the woo' as he so eloquently put it, he is also very much 'da man'. You see, my mother loved the idea of angels. She called me her little angel when I was a kid, even though a giraffe would have been a more accurate description. What I remember most about her is that she believed each of us had a guardian angel looking out for us.

I've never told anyone about that, but somehow, Josh found out.

He looked at me, his expression oddly shy. He'd made his move and now it was up to me to make the next one.

I put my glass down, took his hand, and smiled. "Come on, mi amour, let's go find some mistletoe."

_fin_


End file.
